A Modest Proposal
by oneiromancer242
Summary: Flashforward : Peter goes to his father for advice about the most important question he will ever ask. Fluffy, silly, lots of Dadneto goodness.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : A sweet and fluffy flashforward for you, Petra :-D**

 **1.**

Erik had been convinced that somehow, despite the directions being very exact, he had got the wrong place. Looked around the pleasant, minimal interior and caught the eye of a waitress who bowed her head politely to him and showed him over to a table, set a little sake-warmer in front of him, left him in peace with the menu to worry to that he had absolutely come to the wrong restaurant. Outside the weather was turning from slush to genuine snow, and the warm, calming atmosphere inside seemed even more welcoming by comparison. According to the news, it was going to be one of the harshest winters on record, and he was already dreading the chills and the icy winds, considered going South for a while. Dismissed the idea as one that would feel like admitting he was getting on in years.

Within a few minutes, his fears had been allayed by the arrival of his son. Shrugging out of his long trench-coat, allowing the same waitress to take it to hang up for him, taking a while to unwind himself from the thick scarf and gloves, snuggling into his high collar. Winter wasn't kind to Peter, he hated the cold and come mid-September was always wrapped up in layers which would only be added to as the season wore on. Pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his fingers so that just the tips showed, a fond hug for his father that revealed the shivers running through him. Erik always worried about him being out in cold weather. Even though he was now in his mid-thirties, the paternal urge to remind him that he needed to keep warm was still strong.

"I was surprised about the choice of venue, dear boy" Erik told him, watched him scan the menu, "I didn't think sushi was much your style at all"

"It's not really, but you love it" Peter gave him a shy grin. That much was true, Erik did have a strange passion for sushi and sashimi, "I've already eaten, so the miniature food won't bother me. I thought it would be nice to go somewhere just for you"

Erik smiled warmly at him. Though physically he'd hardly aged, Peter seemed to have done so much growing up over the past decade that he was almost unrecognisible as the mess of emotional chaos that he'd been when he'd enrolled at the Academy all that time ago. Less flashy these days, more settled and perhaps a little more subdued, even more so after Xavier had finally given him permission to convert a disused wing of the Mansion into a full-scale new gymnasium, and take charge of the running himself. No longer in residence at the Academy himself, Erik had been proud to hear Charles' reports that Peter had been thorough, patient, and above all careful in his plans. Peter had been excitable as always about it, but those years of training had done his control good, and he'd somehow stood a full year of preparation before he had been able to finally welcome students in.

Ordering and settling down to wait, Erik thought he could detect a hint of nerves in his son's face. As if he'd arranged this meeting to discuss something that was bothering him. That would explain why he had deliberately chosen to come somewhere that appealed to his father more than himself, perhaps in an effort to get on his good side from the outset. It wouldn't have been necessary, but Erik appreciated the effort. His son had always been thoughtful, but the willingness to put himself out for others was all new.

"All going well in the new gym?" Erik asked. Peter grinned enthusiastically, nodded equally so

"It's going to be *amazing* when it's done, dude!" he gushed, "Just a couple little issues to fix, a little reinforcement in the sprung floor, that kinda stuff. Reckon I'll be up and running in another month. I can't wait"

"I bet you can't. I'm very proud of you, you know. I hope this turns out as well as you hope, you've worked extremely hard for it. There's something on your mind though, I can tell"

Peter put on his innocent face. After all these years, his youthful good-looks ensured that he could still look like a little boy whom butter wouldn't melt in the mouth of when he chose to. It had never worked on Erik, and now was no different.

"Oh come along, Peter. Don't give me Big Eyes, just tell me what's wrong"

"Seriously, Dadneto, it's nothing – oh hey, is that your order I see?"

"I'm not you, you can't distract me like that"

Nevertheless, their order was just about to arrive at the table, and they had made idle conversation for a while, impressed at the skill with which Peter could manage a pair of chopsticks – for some reason, Erik hadn't imagined it was something he could do, but it transpired that he could.

"Now *this* is the reason I don't mind sushi places" Peter smiled widely as the dessert menus were handed to them, "Bite-sized cakes. You can order like a whole plate of different ones – have you tried those gooey little balls? Those are amazing"

"You're not fooling me, you know" Erik raised an eyebrow at him, saw the guilty look pass across his face. All these years, he could still read his son like a book, "Order your dozen desserts, then we'll talk. Clear?"

"But Dad –"

"Peter, you're shaking"

"It's cold!"

"Not in here"

"Oh-KAY…" Peter sighed, "You got me. I need to talk to you about something"

He fished in the pockets of his oversized combat pants. Erik wondered how many pairs of jeans he had on under them to keep him warm. Came back with a little blue box with a suspiciously familiar logo embossed on the front. Very carefully slid it open, popped the velvet case inside, and displayed the contents to Erik. Inside, nestled in soft velveteen, was a delicate gold band set with three beautifully cut rose diamonds.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"As long as you think it's a Tiffany engagement ring, then yeah" Peter said quietly, snapped the case closed and returned it to the box and to his pocket, "So… whadd'ya think?"

Erik stared at him, then completely unexpectedly burst out laughing. Peter looked so nervous, so absolutely tortured in fact, that he could help but think he looked like a man contemplating a death sentence, rather than one who had an engagement ring in his pocket.

"As encouragement goes, that's kind of not what I'm after" Peter said darkly. Erik wiped his eyes, composed himself

"I'm so sorry Peter… it's just… well, I don't think I've ever seen you look so scared before. I assume that is to be given to Angela?"

"No, it's for Jubilee" he deadpanned, "Of course it's for Angie, Dad, we *have* been together over a decade. If I don't ask her soon she's going to think she'll die an old maid. Trouble is, I have no idea how to actually pop the question. Are you still supposed to kneel? Do you think she'll say yes? What if she says no, man, what do I do then?!"

"Peter, please…" Erik chuckled, "She will without a doubt accept your proposal. As to the rest, I don't know why you're asking me"

"You've been married!" he said, exasperated, shoved a whole green-tea mochi into his mouth and spoke a little muffled around it, "You MUST know how it's done!"

"Nina's mother and I married in a very small, quiet ceremony and a great hurry when she discovered that she was pregnant" Erik explained, "Planned marriages are something I have no experience with whatsoever, I'm afraid."

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind and he reached out and seized Peter's hand just as he was reaching for another bite, holding his gaze hard

"You haven't… I mean, Angela's not….?"

"Oh my *god* Dad, no!" Peter exclaimed. Flushed scarlet to the roots of his hair, "Absolutely not! At least… I hope not. OK now I'm really scared, thanks"

"She would have told you, don't worry" Erik relaxed his grip, allowed Peter to reach for another mochi, "Good grief… you do know you're supposed to ask Max first?"

"Do people still do that?" Peter frowned, "Isn't that kinda old-fashioned?"

"No son of mine is marrying a girl without her father's permission" Erik said sternly, sipped the last of his sake, "If I know Max – and believe me, over the last few years, I consider that I have got to know him very well indeed – he will appreciate the courtesy of asking for his daughter's hand before you ask her"

"But what if *he* says no?"

"Oh Peter…." Erik sighed, waved the waitress over for the bill, "This simply isn't a conversation for dinner. Come on"

Having paid and shrugged back into their coats, Erik took his son's well-wrapped arm and led him out, steering him down the street a little further.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked, a little panicked, "I'm not seeing Max now dude, forget about it, I need time!"

"We are going," Erik said patiently, "To the nearest quiet bar, where you and I will have a civilised conversation over several drinks, and you will calm the bloody hell down about all of this so that we can make a plan"

"You need to drink to help me plan a wedding proposal?"

"No man in his right mind has ever planned one sober, Peter. Now come along. Let's get a few shots into you, see if you can't stop climbing the ceiling over a simple question."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N : Hahaha... sorry about the hiccups, CatGirl! Enjoy the silliness, and don't forget I'm still taking ideas for new stories! xx**

2

"OK, if we're doing this, there are rules." Peter told his father sternly, slipped into his seat at a quiet table near the bar, "Rule one, if I get drunk then you have to make sure I eat something substantial before I go to bed, unless you want me to be really ill in the morning. Rule two, no vodka, it goes down _way_ too easy, and Rule three, do *not* try to keep up with me"

Erik chuckled again, gave his son a pitying look

"Young man, I have drunk people three times your size under the table, I don't think I need warning"

"Fine, you wanna be plastered within the hour, go right ahead Dad. There are many good reasons why I don't usually drink, and one of the best is that it's hella expensive for whoever's buying"

"We'll just have to see, won't we? First round's mine"

"Whiskey," Peter said simply. "Jack, ideally"

"Ice? Mixer?"

"Just the bottle and a glass." He held his father's disbelieving look, "I'm saving you leg work, dude. I'm serious. Oh and you'll need this"

He fished in a coat pocket and handed Erik his driver's license, shrugged in response to the confused look. It was easy to forget, for those who had known him for many years, that he still looked barely legal to drink, and he was used by now to sending people to the bar with his ID, knowing he'd get carded and they'd only have to come back for it. The ring in its box was a hard, unignorable lump in his pocket, though thankfully he'd learned over many years of practice to control his nerves enough that he wouldn't be physically sick when he was wound up, it still wasn't a pleasant experience and he couldn't help but secretly agree with his father that this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have sober. Poured himself a glassful when Erik had arrived back at the table, ignored the look of astonishment.

"You cannot be serious" Erik said, "Peter, you're tiny. You can't possibly drink all that"

"I'm not going to bother takin' that as a challenge, because *I* know I can. Speedster metabolism, remember?"

"Yes, but surely –"

"Just drink," Peter murmured. Downed half the glassful. It had been a very long time between drinks, and he'd almost forgotten the intensely pleasurable flush of warmth that good whiskey brought with it. Finished the glass and immediately poured another, "So, proposing to Angie, how to do it without making an absolute idiot of myself, any ideas?"

Erik sipped his vodka, thought about it. Having got to know her over the past decade and even grown to love her himself, he was certain that Angela would not be happy with some extravagant romantic proposal. Definitely no rowboats on swan-covered lakes or five-star champagne dinner for her. Like Peter, she considered such things false and sickly, and would be happiest if it appeared spontaneous and real. The problem of course being that with Peter in such a state of nerves, it would need to be planned to the last detail before he could go through with it.

"Perhaps you could do it where you first met?" he suggested, "That's always a meaningful idea"

"Uh, yeah that would be the dining hall in the Academy for us. I'm not proposing with a hundred little kids watching"

"Yes, your students might find it quite the spectacle" Erik murmured back, "Not there, then. What about your first date?"

"Pizza Planet"

"Perhaps not" he sighed, gazed into his drink. Peter downed his third glassful of whiskey, "Are you genuinely not feeling that yet?"

"Nope. Give it another three I might be tipsy, after that it's a matter of maintenance"

They both drank in silence for a little while, Peter returning from getting his round with three drinks for Erik to stack up, not having much patience for waiting at bars, before sitting back down and saying quietly

"You do think she'll say yes, don't you? And that Max will agree?"

"Of course I do" Erik smiled gently at him, reached to lay a comforting hand on his arm, "She adores you, Peter, always has done. Nobody would put up with your nonsense for eleven years and not agree to marry you. And Max will be delighted"

"Would you, if someone like me wanted to marry Wanda or Lorna – or Nina?" the boy raised his eyebrows, gave Erik a searching look, "Because I'd freak, dude. I'd be like 'no way, get the hell away from my daughter you scum!' "

"You're not scum, and since they're your sisters I'd really rather not think about that" Erik told him, moved onto his second drink. Noticed when it was too late that Peter had racked up three doubles. So much for not keeping up with him, "If I were you, I'd just keep the ring on you and do it when the time and place feels right. Be spontaneous"

"But what do I *say*?!"

"Oh for heaven's sakes, do you want to practice on me?"

"We're in a bar in New York City, Dad. If I kneel and offer you a ring, _someone's_ gonna think we're the most May-and-December relationship they've ever seen"

"Well, just practice the words then!"

Peter tried, he really did. Took a deep breath, tried several times to start a sentence, each time failing to get a single word out and at last simply picking up his drink and downing yet another two glassfuls in quick succession. He was starting to flush a little from the alcohol, a not unpleasant pink spreading over his cheekbones that the embarrassment and nerves wasn't helping one bit. Shook his head, frustrated at himself.

"I don't even know how to start this" he muttered angrily, "Really, I don't"

"You do love her, don't you boy? And you do want to spend the rest of your life with her?"

"Of course"

"Then you just start like that. Believe me, most girls won't care a damn what you say if you give them a Tiffany diamond afterwards. But I know you care very much about the impression, and admittedly Angela is not at all shallow or materialistic. You'll do it right, when the time comes"

"Is that your way of saying you have no idea?"

"Absolutely none" Erik agreed, "So in the meantime, I say we try to relax you about the idea and spend the evening together. There's no need to panic about something that's not happening yet, is there now?"

Peter smiled at last, seeing he was right. In truth he hadn't had a chance to just spend the evening with his father in a few months, and as such they had whiled away the rest of the bottle of whiskey chatting idly about not very much, enjoying one another's company, before at last deciding that they should return to Westchester when they had realised how late it was getting. Peter had a 9AM training session the next day, and Erik only hoped that Charles' open invitation to stay would still stand. He was in no fit state to drive home. Swaying slightly as he had risen to put his coat on, giving Peter a sideways glance

"Are you really not drunk?" he slurred, eyes a little out of focus. Peter thought about it

"I'd say I'm feeling the booze, but not drunk – too much time between shots for that. I am hungry though"

"Oh my dear boy," Erik chuckled, scooped him into an unsteady hug and patted his back too hard, "You really do never change, do you? We can pick you up something to soak up the booze on the way home"

As it had transpired, the offer of a room at the Mansion was not taken up. Having allowed Peter to make him a cup of tea before they turned in for the night, Erik had quite unexpectedly dozed off on the sofa. Peter had meant to wake him, move him upstairs, absolutely not to simply sit beside him to rest for a few minutes. After an entire bottle of whiskey and a couple of triple beefburgers he'd come over dozy himself, and before he knew it had laid his head on his father's shoulder and slipped off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N : That's all folks :-) Last chapter of this one. You better all go to your dentist after all that sweetness. Any more prompts you'd like to see?**

3

When Peter woke the following morning, it was to a headache from the unnatural angle of his head, not helped in the slightest by the quantity of whiskey he'd got through the night before. Wriggling into a more comfortable position before he realised that he was not freezing cold, and then that he could smell something absolutely delicious. Opened his eyes to see Angela wafting a mug of hot chocolate under his nose. She had tucked four warm, fleecy blankets around him, and he was swathed up to his chin in glorious warmth, loathe to emerge, but knowing he couldn't reach the mug without doing so.

"Morning Puppydog" she whispered, "Have a good night?"

"Dinner turned into drinks" he whispered back, smiled and took the mug from her hands, loving the warmth it spread through his fingers, "Dad's gonna have a hangover, but he brought it on himself. It was his idea"

She laughed very quietly, squeezed herself onto the sofa and wormed her way under the blankets with him. Kept very quiet so as not to wake Erik, who was still snoring very slightly with his head thrown back on the sofa. Almost wanted to take a picture, to use against him if she ever needed to. Even the Great and Terrible Magneto looked adorable when he was sleeping. Peter cuddled up close to her, took a sip of his drink, made a satisfied little noise of pleasure

"Did you make this with heavy cream?"

"Yep, and real grated chocolate, just the way Lorna does it. She taught me last Thanksgiving. Thought you might need it"

"You're a saint, honey" he told her, leaned and kissed her lightly on the ear. It tickled, and she stifled a giggle. She always tried to make sure she got Peter a hot drink first thing throughout the colder months, it helped get him going – he always woke up cold anyway, and with a freezing ambient temperature outside getting something hot inside him was a top priority, especially if she could make it something loaded down with sugar, calories and fat.

"Going for a run soon?" she whispered, "It's snowed overnight, you'll need extra layers"

"I'll skip it, need breakfast more. And a hug – think you could manage that?"

Beside them, Erik groaned deeply, raised a sleepy hand to rub over his face. Blearily half-opened his eyes to see the two of them regarding him with barely-concealed amusement. That was dignity out of the window, then.

"Good morning, Mr Lensherr" Angela said sweetly, "Want some coffee?"

"What time is it?" he moaned, tried to look at his watch and found that he had slept on his other arm, and it was a dead prickly weight that wouldn't respond to his wishes.

"Just gone six – Peter's slept late today"

"Must be all the whiskey" Erik muttered, "Good grief, aren't you even hung over?"

He watched his boy pushing the blankets down and getting up to stretch luxuriously, envious both of his youth and strength and of his apparent lack of suffering after last night. Peter offered him a smile and a hand to get to his feet.

"Come get a hot breakfast, Dadneto" he said kindly, "You'll feel better"

Much to Erik's gratitude, Peter hadn't chattered too much throughout the meal, and by the time they had sat for a long time over coffee and several more cups of creamy hot cocoa and Peter had departed for his training session, he had been feeling much better. Stayed for a time to chat with Angela before he had decided to drop in on Charles. It seemed rude to sleep in his house and not even stop in to say hello. Finally bid his son a quick but fond goodbye on his way over to the almost-finished new gymnasium around eleven, and went on his way hoping that Peter would screw his courage up sooner rather than later.

The gym was looking glorious, and Peter couldn't help but look around and observe the work going into the sprung floor in the mirrored studio room they had constructed. He had plans for martial arts training there, as well as dance to help the kids blow off some steam, which Angela had offered to help out with. Next door, a beautifully equipped new weights room stood with everything the student body could possibly need, a huge selection of free weights, even a few of the very latest StairMasters at his request – though he personally couldn't think of anything worse than climbing stairs and not getting anywhere, he'd heard they were excellent for people who actually had to work at their fitness. The obstacle room was his pride and joy though, and he could never resist having a go at the huge course, packed out with seventy unique and adjustable hazards, couldn't wait to put his students through their paces on it.

At last, the construction team had come through to let him know that they had finished reinforcing the floor, had even got Colossus to jump around on it to test the spring resistance and pronounced it virtually indestructible. Peter had been testing it out himself when Angela had entered without his notice.

She stood in the door for a while, watching her boyfriend turn handsprings and cartwheels, somersault and land effortlessly on his feet, graceful and strong as any gymnast. He'd been training with Jubilee for years now to perfect that addition to his incredible fighting prowess, enjoying the freedom of the movement and the ease with which it now came to him. At last he had noticed her, coming to rest after a series of back-flips that left him standing toe-to-toe with her and leaning to plant a kiss on her lips. She laughed, reached out to pull him into a tight hug.

"It's looking pretty cool in here, isn't it?" she remarked, gazing around the room, "Almost ready?"

"Uh-huh, just a few final touches. Think I'll make an okay instructor?"

"As long as you remember that other people have to take rests, I think you'll be amazing. I'm so glad this has all come together, Puppydog. I'm proud of you"

"Thanks, babe" he said quietly. Let her lead him out of the studio into the gymnasium proper, clamber up to sit on a vaulting horse and survey the room. He flipped himself up to sit beside her, snuggled close against her side, sat quietly a while.

"You've really come a long way, you know" she said admiringly, "Look at all this – you're going to make such a difference around here"

"And you're gonna help, right?" he said, grinned brilliantly at her. She nodded.

"I was wondering, actually, if you wanted to make our partnership more… official, shall we say?"

He frowned, not quite getting her meaning.

"In what way?"

She shook her head, laughed lightly. Fished in the pocket of her jeans and returned with a little red velvet box. Opened it to reveal a plain silver band and looked up at his shocked face shyly

"I mean, Peter Maximoff, will you be my husband?"

He stared at the glittering ring in disbelief, looked up at her nervously waiting for his answer. Couldn't get words out, instead reached into his own pocket and returned with the little blue box that had been a weight like a rock there all day. Nodded and held the Tiffany band out to her.

"Only if you'll be Mrs Maximoff" he said softly, "Which I suppose goes without saying, if I was your husband, unless you –"

She cut him off with her lips against his, crushing him against her for a long while until they were both breathless. When she pulled away, her eyes were glistening with tears and she was beaming. Held out her hand for him to slip the ring on for her, did likewise for him. They sat perched up on the horse for a long while, left hands interlaced, admiring how perfect the two rings looked together.

"I didn't ask your Dad" Peter said at last, "I hope he'll understand"

"That's okay Pup," she smiled back, pulled him close for another hug. "I asked yours."

"Bridesmaids?" he asked.

"Lorna and Wanda" she said decisively, "Gold dresses for them, silver satin for me, I want you in grey and lots of roses. And you're wearing a tie, no arguments."

"Wow, you've been planning this for a while haven't you?" he chuckled, cuddled her tighter. She returned his embrace, smiled with such genuine loveliness he thought his heart would burst from happiness.

"Only for about ten years" she said, and kissed him again.


End file.
